


Time Is, Slowly, Traced In Their Face

by serpentuschordata



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Panic Attacks, Shoosh-Papping, bc thats when i started writing it, could be read as romantic or platonic, im providing this site with like half its vikare content and thats okay, rated teen for some mild cursing and that's it, sorta cliche but i dont care, takes place during volume 16, this bad boy's been a long time coming, though leaning towards vikare and the reader being pale for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 12:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17601245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentuschordata/pseuds/serpentuschordata
Summary: When your experiences on Alternia become too much to bear, you run to the thing that feels like home.





	Time Is, Slowly, Traced In Their Face

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Memories of deaths you swore you’d seen before, that flashed across your mind in cold, sharp, visions when you saw their faces or heard their names. Far more of them than you’d think, too, one for nearly half of the trolls you’d met on your time here. Granted, you should have known - Alternia seemed to be a planet built on murder, and a good handful of your new friends were far too eager to participate in it themselves - but something about this situation was starting to feel more and more wrong, more and more unsettling. The death, the memories that weren’t memories at all, the constant need to go out and make friends despite your desire to do so growing ever weaker and your actual liking of some of these friends being admittedly lacking. 

But after your encounter with a troll named Fozzer Velyes, you kept feeling like something was dreadfully, horribly wrong, despite not remembering anything that was out of the ordinary for this strange planet. He was over across the dirt now, after you’d waved an awkward goodbye with that unsettling feeling still lingering over you , humming some sort of patriotic Alternian song to himself. It made you feel sick to your stomach for no discernable reason, and you wanted nothing more than to fly on out of here before any more of your friends could leave you with the afterimages of their nonexistent demises lingering in your mind. 

That was it, you thought, you just had to get back to your rocket, fix it up as best as you could, and fly back to your home planet -

Wait.

Fly.

Vikare.

You hadn’t seen hide or hat of the one troll who might be able to fly you out of here (even if it’d take a little guidance and a lot of figuring out how to actually get flying in the first place - he wasn’t exactly the most apt fellow in the way of his interest, but he was certainly devoted), and the last you’d heard of him was likely another failed attempt to take to the skies that resulted in another few broken bones. To make things worse, he hadn’t added you on any of these weird troll-versions of social media, or given you his number, or anything that would make it easy to get into contact with him and check up. You’d realized this late one night/day/whatever you would consider it here, when your plans to text the fellow and check up on him were cut short for this exact reason.

You needed to get over there, and you needed to get there now. Any hesitation, and he might end up meeting the same fate that your other friends might have. Or didn’t. 

You groan in annoyance. Thinking about this makes your head hurt and your body feel like it’s 50 times heavier than it actually is, and you need to get moving. If anything, you needed someone to comfort you, and Vikare was probably one of the sweetest trolls you’d met during your time here. No plans to murder anyone, no weird obsessions, no assassination charges on his head (that you knew of, at least). 

You take a deep breath and run until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore.

After what feels like forever, you knock on the door to your flight-loving friend’s hive, heart ready to burst out of your chest at the thought that he might not answer at all. But he’d jumped off of cliffs several times before, and probably performed dozens more death-defying stunts,right? You really shouldn’t be so panicked, you tell yourself, he’s going to be just fine. 

But you are. You don’t want to admit it, but you are. You feel like you’re going to fall over and pass out any moment now, and you hope to whatever higher powers might be causing this unusual feeling to loom that the aspiring pilot is safe. 

When the door opens, you couldn’t be more relieved to see him in your life. Same big, shiny goggles, same worn old bomber jacket - and a makeshift leg brace, made out of metal parts you recognize from your wrecked spaceship.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my ol’ pal!” Vikare grins, just as happy and amiable as when you’d first met. As he looks you over, however, his grin turns into a comforting, concerned smile. “Ah, don’t worry about this.” He says, gesturing to the leg brace with a soft laugh. “I didn’t have any other metal to work with, you see, and your ship just so happened to harbor a few of the parts I needed!” 

A quiet moment passed between the two of you, Vikare now noticing your concerned expression hadn’t changed. Stepping aside to let you in, his expression changes to a concerned and worried frown. “Are you quite allright, ol’ pal?“ He asks, holding out a hand to help you walk inside without possibly fainting. “You look more than a little rustled up! They didn’t send the drones gallivanting after you, I should hope?”

You shook your head, the concern in his voice almost comforting as he leads you to his couch and pats your shoulder softly, before heading over to his desk and shoving aside a few blueprints and papers that he’d had laid out haphazardly across it. “I admit I was in the middle of fine-tuning a few of these, but any friend of mine in such a state as this deserves my fullest attention!” he explains, rolling up the blueprints and putting them in a drawer. “What’s bothering the ol’ thinkpan, hm?“ 

You adjust yourself on the couch anxiously, debating your answer. It would sound like you’d lost your mind if you told him what was really bothering you, you mused to yourself, berating yourself for your irrational fears. You open your mouth, attempting to say something that might make sense to him, but your breath hitches in your throat. Turning your head down, avoiding looking at him, you instead focus your attention on a wrench that was left on the couch. “Nothing.” You choke out, finally. “Just wanted to see you.”

“I see. Well, it’s always a pleasure to have you drop by, ol’ sport!” Vikare smiles warmly, setting the blueprints he’d gathered into a drawer. “Though there’s no need to rush, I couldn’t want you keeling over from running and getting into a right pickle!”

“I guess.” You laugh, trying to mask your discomfort. Meanwhile, he’s adjusting a sole light switch on the wall that dimmed the bright fluorescents down to a warm glow that reminds you of the bronze hues that Vikare and the other bronzebloods decorated themselves with - and, well, bled. 

You didn’t want to think about blood right now, though. More often than not, it led to death - whether by color or by the spilling of it - and that was the one thing you came here for a respite from. So, after a pregnant moment of silence, you shrug, unsure of what to say next. 

Making a few steps towards the couch, attempting to break the awkward silence with a bit of caution in his tone, Vikare asks; “Mind if I take a sit? It’s been quite the day of perusing my blueprints and charting my next course into the wild blue, and it looks to me like you could use an attentive ear in these troubled times.” 

You nod. If anything, you wanted him to sit next to you right now, and he does, adjusting the pillows around a bit and looking at you with his usual toothy grin. The two of you sit for a moment in silence, and you’re not quite sure what to say. All of your thoughts sound wrong in your head, and although you don’t want him to worry, you desperately want to tell him everything. 

“Everything copacetic, pal o’ mine?” Vikare asks again, concern returning to his face. “You needn’t cook up any tall tales to make me feel better, if that’s what’s got you all dizzied up!” 

You look at him for a moment, but it’s pretty clear he’s picked up on your growing unease over this whole situation. There’s no better time than the present, you think, so you take a deep breath and go for it.

“I just--” You start, voice starting to shake as you try to keep from crying in front of your dear friend. “It’s--” You look down at your hoodie, which you’ve subconsciously been playing with in your hands, then back at Vikare. 

“Take your time, now, no need to rush.” Vikare tilts his head to the side with a smile, patting the couch as if to say ‘I’m not leaving any time soon’.

“Th-thanks.” You attempt a smile. It’s not very convincing. “I just -- I’ve met a lot of trolls since I’ve met you--” Remembering them, you stop, eyes watering even more now at the memories that might not even be memories at all. 

“That sounds dandy, if I’m not mistaken!” Vikare offers. “I know I don’t get out much, but I’d wager someone as swell as you would do a bang-up job at the ol’ friendship game.”

“Well-” You want to say yes, because in all truth he isn’t wrong, but a part of you doesn’t think it’s completely accurate. Not when these thoughts of failing all your new friends keep haunting your mind. “I just-- I did, you’re right, but-- I also didn’t? That is, I can-- I remember--” Your voice shakes, tears pressing at the corners of your eyes, and you struggle to put what you want to say into words. It’s stupid, to put it shortly, and you know he’ll think you’re losing your marbles if you tell him. Ah, yes, a sane person remembers their friends dying despite them being as alive as ever, and a sane person definitely gets this worked up over it. Not.

“Remember what, ol’ chum?” Vikare frowns, raising a hand in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m a little lost, do you need a moment to get your bearings?”

“No, it’s-- I remember, uh--” You try once more, “I did make a lot of friends, but- I-- I can’t deal with this anymore, Vikare, I just can’t. Every time I look at- at any of them, I just--” you choke back a sob as you finally begin to explain. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I-- This isn’t gonna make any sense to you, but I can-- I can see them dying, Vikare, I remember them dying and I remember it being my fault, it’s always my fault, but they’re also not dead, not really, and it just--” Realizing that what you are saying must sound like you’re losing it, and besides that probably doesn’t make any sense at all, you put your head in your hands as tears spill from your eyes. “Shit, just-- don’t listen to me, I’m not making sense right now, shit--”

You try to apologize again, but you’re already sobbing, already shaking too badly to try and form coherent sentences. It’s not pretty, you know that for a fact, and you’re ready for Vikare to get frustrated with you or uncomfortable or some such thing. However, instead, he softly puts a hand on your arm - slow and gentle, so as not to startle you - and looks at you from behind his goggles. 

“Here-- Ah, globes, give me one moment-” he stops for a second, perhaps realizing he still has his hat and goggles still on. “I imagine it’s a good deal of a troublesome turn for you to have to look to these glassy goggles in your most tumultuous of turmoiled times.”

He smiles softly, tapping his flight goggles with a claw before reaching up to take them off, along with his aviator’s cap. His face is just as soft as the rest of him, warm and tired-looking brown-tinted eyes and short, curly hair that looks matted down from being under his cap for who knows how long. You want, a little, to comment on it - he looked almost as tired as Tyzias, did he need sleep? - but instead, all you can do is sit there, shaking, tears streaming down your face, as Vikare gently takes your hands in his and looks into your eyes with that concerned yet adoring expression - a soft half-smile with pained, worried eyes. 

“I don’t know exactly why you’d come to me, of all trolls, honestly...” He starts, voice softer now, sounding nervous. “And I admit I don’t entirely understand what all you’re going on about, either. But, for what it’s worth, I can say I’ve seen more than my fair share of trolls culled in my lifetime, and it does hurt to see, it really does, more than I could ever say. I can imagine, for you, it must be even more painful and jarring…” he trails off for a moment, trying to find words. “You know- being from another planet and all, ahah…”

“Mhm…” You nod, trying to calm down as best as you can. Even so, you're still shaking.

“That said, you cannot blame yourself, no one can.” He continues, “This is the way things have always been, and possibly, how they will be for countless sweeps to come. And while I know there are some out there who want to change things, I-- I don’t think I have the strength to be a part of that.”

He trails off with a pained smile, looking away for a second, as if he’s remembering something bittersweet that he’d rather forget. It’s a little surreal, you think, for a troll who normally talks a mile a minute to be so cautious and hesitant all of a sudden. But today as a whole was surreal too, this whole experience on Alternia was, and there was comfort to be found in knowing there is someone who’s just as scared as you are.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, well…” he finally starts, then pauses once again. His hands tighten a little around yours, and you can see that there are those eerily familiar odd bronze-tinted tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know if this’ll help you any, but as your friend, you mean the world and more to me. You’re-- you’re the only person I’ve ever-- the only person I’ve really been able to open up to here, about my goals and desires and whatnot, my silly old flying machines-- and it means a lot.” His voice wavers, and you can tell he’s trying to hold back tears - you both are, honestly, at this point. “You’re truly wonderful, and I-- I’m eternally grateful to have you here, as my friend.”

You’ve been feeling as though you were about to break out into sobs again the entire time he was speaking, but now, you can’t hold back the waterworks anymore. On that last familiar word, friend, you finally collapse into him, burying your face in his jacket and letting it all out in pained, muffled sobs. You cling to him like a lifeline, wrapping your arms around him tightly and not even bothering to scold yourself internally anymore. You just need someone to hold you, now, that’s all it boils down to. 

“Shh, hey, shh, I’ve got you.” Vikare’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer and letting you cry into his jacket. He’s surprisingly soft and warm, and the low reassuring purr of his voice is honestly getting to be one of the most soothing sounds you’ve ever heard. “You're going to be allright, ol’ pal, I've got you.” He intones, low and warm and comforting, giving you little pats on the back and shushing you softly.

The two of you sit for a moment, Vikare gently rocking you back and forth in his embrace as your crying begins to slow and your breathing returns to normal. But when you turn your face to look up at him, you almost feel like you might start sobbing again - that, is, until he cautiously picks up on this and proceeds to shush you again, giving your face a little “pap!”

It's kind of silly, and it's certainly enough to make you crack a smile. “Are you shoosh-papping me?” You ask, voice still a little shaky, though your amusement definitely starts to show through.

“Well-” Vikare pauses, face going bronze for a second. “I'm aware the status of our relations is far from pale, but I figured you'd need it - being in such a state as you were, that is!” He looks away sheepishly, wringing his hands. “Now I've gone and done it,” he mutters under his breath, “They're in their time of need and I pull out the shooshpappery like some sort of pale-crushing plebeian!”

You laugh, wiping your eyes before taking his hands in yours. Cracking a tired grin, you give his hands a little squeeze. “It's all good, Vikare, I don't mind one bit.’’ 

“Ah, thank the stars.” Vikare sighs in relief. 

“But, uhm, is it okay if I stay here for a little bit?” you ask - and now it's your turn, it seems, to look away and blush. “Just to get my bearings, and maybe figure out a way to get back to my planet? You are the expert on flying machines and all that, so, uh…” you trail off, feeling incredibly awkward about the situation now that you'd calmed down a fair bit.

“Why, of course!” Vikare smiles, nodding. “No need to feel ashamed, my de- my friend!” he corrects himself, face flushing a deeper bronze than it was before. “I suppose you'll need some sort of alien sleeping arrangement, correct?”

“The loungeplank is fine, honestly.” you return the smile, patting the couch again. “Besides, I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon, so we can work something out in the evening.” 

“Sounds like an excellent arrangement!” Vikare nods, ruffling your hair, before making his way down the hall towards his recuperacoon. “See you in the evening, ol’ chum.”

“Yeah, see you.” You nod back, shutting your eyes as you lie down on the couch and curl up into a ball. 

You’re starting to feel at home in this place.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope all 3 of y'all vikare lovers out there like this aaa
> 
> its not the best ever but hey its a start, and yes it is inspired by cavetown's this is home so give that a listen if you havent already its one of my favorite songs. vikare is a blessing and mspa reader is a blessing so writing them together is just a big ol' pile of blessed. this isn't rlly proofread as well as it could have been so i'll probably fix any mistakes i find down the line here.
> 
> its been. 3-ish months since i started this? iirc marvo and fozzers route came out in october 2018 and thats around the time i started this so its a little tiny bit outdated as far as that goes (nihkees route wasnt a thing yet so i didnt have that to go off of). i tried to make it work tho, u could count it as canon divergent? i suppose? yeah.
> 
> anyways thats all i gotta say on this one, probably the longest ive written thus far.


End file.
